<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Sea Glass by carrot_png</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27099832">Sea Glass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrot_png/pseuds/carrot_png'>carrot_png</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentioned Ozai (Avatar), Multi, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Spirit World (Avatar), Spirit World - Freeform, implied soulmates, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, no beta - we die like lu ten, the abuse is basically just a modern version of what happened in the show</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 04:21:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27099832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrot_png/pseuds/carrot_png</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Even broken glass that's outlived it's usefulness and has been tossed in the trash with it's sharp edges can be smoothed over with the right mixture of sand and crashing waves. </p>
<p>Zuko finds himself taking long walks along the black sandy beaches of Ember Island, collected the frosty sea glass and wondering when the sand between his toes and the waves crashing at his ankles will smooth over his own jagged edges.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iroh &amp; Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang &amp; Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sea Glass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was something about the water that seemed to beckon Zuko to it. It was like his heart was lost somewhere in the depths of the ocean and his lungs couldn’t function without the salty sea breeze filling every breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t always felt this way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a kid, he had loathed the beach and the sand that stuck between his toes and the salt water that made his hair stiff and itchy when it dried in the summer sun. He only ever tolerated the summer days spent on the black sands of Ember Island because when the moon chased away the oppressive heat, his mother would take him into the cool darkness of the local theater house where they would watch fantastic tales of spirits and myths until the stars twinkled in the night sky to light their way back to their beachfront home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then his mother left when he was ten, silent and unnoticed in the dead of night. Zuko had been blissfully unaware of the abuse his mother had faced, of the bruises she hid under her makeup, and the fear she hid behind a fake smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without his mother around, Zuko learned quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes Ozai’s grip was bruising on his upper arm in a way that Zuko wasn’t used to. He learned that if he stayed just out of reach of his father, Ozai was less likely to grab him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Ozai began yelling at him over his incompetence, Zuko learned to hold his tongue when around his father. If he kept quiet, Ozai was less likely to notice him and feel the urge to point out how worthless, useless, and weak he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first time Ozai smacked him for bringing home a less than perfect grade at school, Zuko learned that it didn’t matter how hard he worked at something, he always had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be better</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he had turned thirteen, Zuko had mastered the art of staying out of his father’s focus. At least, he thought he had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew it was stupid to even be in the same room when Ozai and the board of directors gathered in the drawing room for an after hours and off the record meeting, but he found himself gravitating to the room with all the stuffy old men, listening with interest to their proposals for the good of his father’s business.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew it was even stupider to speak up when one of the old men proposed a huge layoff, only to hire new, fresh employees at half the rate of their current senior staff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ozai hadn’t been happy with his outburst but Zuko didn’t know how badly he had messed up until the last member of the board of directors left and Ozai turned his fury onto him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zuko didn’t fully remember anything after that. He didn’t remember his father gripping the back of his neck hard enough to leave a bruise. He didn’t remember the way Ozai spit angry vitriol at him. He didn’t remember the way Ozai had shoved aside his uncle's tea kettle, or the way it whistled in his ears and screamed with him as his father shoved his face down against the hot burner of the stove.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uncle said he was lucky, but Zuko didn’t feel lucky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Healing was slow and even with the best team of doctors looking after him around the clock, nothing could stop the infection that set into the deep wound. With his hearing impared and his vision barely passable as working on his left side, it took Zuko a while to learn how to feel okay in his own skin again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His uncle had done his best to keep a building agoraphobia at bay. He relocated Zuko from the busy inner city of Caldera to the quiet beaches of Ember Island. He insisted on daily walks along the private beach outside of their home and games of Pai Sho late in the evening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing Zuko relearned was that it was okay to be near his uncle. A constant shame had weighed down his shoulders the first few weeks that he spent at the beach house. Zuko felt like he was constantly moving out of his uncle's reach, shifting to different seats and trying to make himself as small as possible any time Uncle stepped into the room. Iroh would always get the same sad look in his eyes and his sigh would send a shiver of fear down Zuko’s spine. But every time just when he thought his uncle would finally punish him for being so </span>
  <em>
    <span>weak</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Iroh would just tell some old proverb and let Zuko have his physical space. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first time Zuko sat directly next to Iroh, he couldn’t bring himself to look at his uncle and he missed the bright smile that overtook the old man’s face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second thing Zuko found himself relearning was that it was okay to voice his thoughts and opinions. This one had been harder, the still healing burn stretching across his face was too constant of a reminder of the last time he had tried to speak his mind. But nevertheless, on an unsuspecting day as his uncle wove tales of how important the art of brewing tea was for not only the mind and body but for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>soul</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Zuko found himself rolling his eyes in exasperation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is just hot leaf juice.” He mumbled, a hint of sarcasm dripping in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time seemed to stop as the cold chill ran down his spine. His fingers felt numb and his palms sweaty as his breath caught in his lungs. His uncle stood just across from him, the tea kettle in his hand and raised above their tea cups in the aborted motion of pouring tea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment was broken by Iroh’s joyful laugh, “Hot leaf juice! How could my own nephew say something so horrible!” He declares as he pours tea into each of their cups. He lifts the cup closest to Zuko, carefully placing it against his palm and covering his hand with his own, “Your joke was quite funny, Zuko. I am glad you shared it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warmth of the cup brings feeling back to Zuko’s fingers and the warmth in his uncle's voice calms his frayed nerves and racing heart just enough that he feels like he can breathe again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he brought his tea cup to his lips and blew gently on the steaming liquid so he could take a sip, Zuko learned that it was okay to not be okay.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>